


Pas de Deux

by sass_bot



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gay yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sass_bot/pseuds/sass_bot
Summary: Ava is drawn to the detective's room in the late hours of the night, only to find her lying awake and fantasizing about a moonlit waltz. Ava reluctantly indulges her -- only to realize that it is not she who is leading this waltz.
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	Pas de Deux

The night that falls over the warehouse brings with it storm clouds and heavy showers. The sound of the rain being pelted at the old building only accentuates the lonely calm that permeates the halls.

Ava lets out a satisfied sigh as she dries her hair off from her shower. An hour of training is just what she’d needed to wash away the stress of the day.

Well, not all of it.

Unit Bravo had had to deal with another attempt on the detective’s life courtesy of the Trappers. Just the image of her overpowered and captured by them is almost enough to bring back all the tension she had worked so hard to alleviate. She squeezes the towel with a bit more force than necessary around her shoulder length golden hair before tossing it into her laundry basket.

She had planned to spend the rest of the night reading in bed when she hears a soft melody bounce off the walls. It is just loud enough for Ava’s hypersensitive hearing to pick up. As though taken in by a ghostly Piper, she feels herself drawn out of her room to follow the trail of musical notes hanging on the wind.

It is not an unpleasant sound, and a vaguely familiar one at that. If Ava had to hazard a guess, she would say that it is Dvořák that is sweeping through the warm halls of the warehouse living area like a melancholy phantom. The dulcet vibrations of the cello wrap themselves firmly around the soft bulbs of the corridor lamps, and, for a moment, be it a trick of her mind’s eye or the storm outside interfering with the electricity, she sees the yellow lights flicker like candles in the wind.

Ava’s senses lead her directly to the detective’s door, and all at once, she can feel the romantic strings assault her every sense. She bristles at the door standing in between her and the source of the music. It takes her a moment to remember that it’s far too late for the detective to still be awake right now.

Her hand hovers over the door for a few long seconds, unsure whether or not it would be appropriate to knock. The detective could be asleep – she’s heard that some humans play soft music to help them fall asleep – in which case it would be increasingly inconsiderate to even think of knocking.

She lingers in place, training her hearing on the sound of the detective’s heartbeat, which, while not exactly racing, is not beating with the slow and steady pulse of sleep. So, hardening her face to its usual stern and placid mask, she gives three polite knocks to the door.

“Detective Sarhan, it’s me,” she says – and then in a hurried tone, she clarifies, “Agent du Mortain. I just wanted to check on you.”

There is a beat before the detective calls out through the door. “Oh, Ava! Come on in!”

The detective’s voice has an airy musicality to it when she says Ava’s name that fits right in with the swelling of the strings playing in the background, coming together in a way that strikes Ava like a punch to her gut, forming a lump in her throat. She takes a moment to compose herself before opening the door and stepping inside.

Nothing, however, could have prepared her for what she would see inside. She finds the detective in a very Victorian white nightgown, sprawled across her bed, and staring at the ceiling. It isn’t so much _what_ she’s doing as much as it’s how her soft pink curls are spread across the plain white sheets like rose petals – how her head turns to face Ava as she enters, her flushed lips parted slightly – how her arm lies across the bed outstretched towards Ava, her fingers bent as though beckoning her late-night visitor.

“D- Detective,” Ava greets, her mouth suddenly very dry.

“Naz,” the detective corrects, offering up her nickname.

“Nayzak,” comes Ava’s compromise.

“Fine,” Nayzak replies, her tone tinged with disappointment, something that Ava has regrettably grown accustomed to. She shifts so that she’s facing the ceiling again, which brings Ava some measure of relief from Nayzak’s probing stare. “Did you need something, Ava? It’s pretty late, y’know.”

“I was just worried. You have to go to the precinct tomorrow; shouldn’t you get some sleep sleep so that you’re well-rested tomorrow?”

“I can’t sleep,” she says in a lazy drawl – the fatigue is heavy in her voice – but she offers no further explanation.

“So, you’re…”

Before Ava can finish her sentence, Nayzak says, “I’m listening to classical music while staring at the ceiling; yes.”

“Right…”

Just then, Nayzak lets out a sigh that, in her ruffled nightgown, almost makes her seem like a deflating balloon. She then shifts onto her side, digging her elbow into the mattress and resting her head against her knuckles. “You’re right though. I should go to sleep.”

Ava raises a brow but says nothing.

“I’m sure I’ll be tired enough to sleep if you would be so kind as to help… tire me out,” she says, her voice taking on a raspy quality near the end, causing Ava’s consciousness to momentarily leave this plane of existence.

Ava manages by the skin of her teeth to hold herself back from becoming a sputtering mess and calmly replies, “You sound like you’re spending too much time around Morgan.”

At this, Nayzak sits up completely and flashes a smile at Ava that accelerates her heartbeat. She isn’t religious, but it makes her want to thank whatever divine fates have made it so that Nayzak cannot perceive the devastating effect every small movement she makes has on Ava’s body and mind.

“Ava…” she says in mock disappointment, her lips pursing in a playful smirk, “How could you assume something so vulgar could come from little old me?”

The vampire can see something clutched between Nayzak’s hands – her phone and the source of the haunting music.

“I was actually hoping…” This time, it’s Nayzak’s heart that quickens, and Ava doesn’t need her senses to see the blush that colors her cheeks. “Do you know how to waltz?”

The question takes Ava by surprise. “How to waltz? I’m… familiar.” The redness in Nayzak’s face emboldens Ava. “Are you asking me to dance, Nayzak?” she asks with amusement in her tone, her eyes following Nayzak’s which have shot down to her lap.

“Would you?” The sincerity in her voice is like a shock to Ava’s system, swaying their unspoken battle back in Nayzak’s favor.

With an uncharacteristic softness, she replies, “Of course, I will.”

***

The couple agrees to head to the lounge rather than the more spacious training hall, hoping to take advantage of the warmth provided by the hearth. It’s a simple task for Ava, with her superhuman strength, to clear the furniture to make room for their impromptu dancing lesson.

Ava stands at the center of the room, her back straight and an arm folded behind her back. She holds her other hand out to Nayzak, trying her utmost not to show how stirred up she is at the idea of being in such intimate proximity to the other woman.

“Hang on,” she says, fiddling with her phone before placing it on one of the tables that Ava had pushed against the wall.

She then scurries over to Ava, timidly placing her palm over the vampire’s. As she does so, the beginnings of a soft waltz tune plays from her phone.

“Tchaikovsky…” Ava mumbles, closing her fingers around Nayzak’s and gently guiding her hand placements. “Not a bad choice.”

Nayzak grins with pride. “Thank you.”

The detective proves herself to be a quick study. Ava starts them out slow, moving them slightly off rhythm if only to allow Nayzak a moment to familiarize herself. Ava has, of course, chosen to teach her only the most basic of steps, but it does not take long for her to fall in with the quick rhythm of the music she has chosen.

A glint of endearment sparks within Ava’s deep emerald eyes as she watches Nayzak’s head tilt downwards to watch her bare feet with a comical intensity as they clumsily step in time with Ava’s.

The agent untangles her hand from Nayzak’s and reaches towards her face, scarcely touching the smooth surface of her cheek. Nayzak’s skin heats up immediately and her gaze shoots up to meet Ava’s.

“Look at me,” Ava orders, her voice gentle but stern. “You’ll dance us into a wall if you keep looking at your feet.”

The sheepish look that Nayzak dons in apology is one that Ava has rarely seen on the detective’s face and it causes her stomach to backflip.

“Try to keep your eyes on me,” Ava says, her voice steadier than her nerves. “Anywhere but the floor. Understood?”

Nayzak nods, her long curls bouncing around her head as she does.

 _This is a bad idea_.

The thought hits Ava so abruptly that it almost shocks her into freezing where she stands. Of course, she doesn’t need her conscience to tell her that what she’s indulging in is disastrous for the both of them. The way Nayzak’s warm honey-colored eyes seem to be searching the harsh lines of Ava’s face…There’s no doubting she wears her heart on her sleeve, but whatever Nayzak is searching for, it is not something Ava can give her.

She’s not sure how well she’s able to conceal the torrent raging behind her penetrating gaze, but if Nayzak has noticed, she hasn’t indicated as much.

A brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed by the rumble of thunder which almost overpowers the sound of the music.

A calm, only accented by the trill of the flutes and the swaying of the strings, falls about the room. Ava expertly leads the couple as they dance in dreamy circles around the room. The skirt of Nayzak’s nightgown flows and bounces around her legs like a cloud, giving the illusion of a fluffy ballgown, and Ava feels almost underdressed in her simple t-shirt and comfortable pants.

“When I was a little girl, I used to daydream about being swept off my feet by a dashing knight…” Nayzak mumbles, her voice tiptoeing as a ballerina atop the canopy of tranquility that has settled over them. “And dancing until my feet hurt under the moonlight.”

Ava frowns, unintentionally skipping a beat of the music and causing Nayzak to stumble into her. “I apologize if this doesn’t meet your expectations…” The vampire kicks herself internally for sounding like an injured puppy just then. She doesn’t even notice how close their faces have grown as Nayzak clings to her arm to keep steady, her cotton candy pink bangs tickling Ava’s forehead.

The detective’s bright hazel eyes gleam uncertainly in the firelight. She licks her lips cautiously before she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “No. This is better.”

As beautiful as the sweeping brass around them is, it pales in comparison to the sound of Nayzak’s heart fluttering against Ava’s chest, like a caged hummingbird yearning for freedom.

Almost as though she’d sensed Ava’s distress, Nayzak twirls out of Ava’s arms, the fingertips in her extended hand ghosting over Ava’s in a caress that sends jolts of electricity up Ava’s arm and straight to her chest. The duo’s eyes meet as though bound by an invisible tether. The ache to be close to one another again is so heavy in the air around them.

On impulse, Ava finds herself tugging on Nayzak’s fingers to bring her close again. Her hands settle on the detective’s waist and her eyes travel down to those tempting pink lips. She shakes off the thought before tightening her grip on Nayzak and hoisting her up into a lift that elicits a yelp of laughter from the other woman that completely shatters Ava’s heart, leaving the shards to fall out of her chest like tiny crystals at their feet.

Trying to keep her mind on the climax of the music, Ava guides them back into a waltz. But this time, there is a heavy sense of panic clinging to each one of her bones. The strings build-up in the distance, but all she can hear is white noise and Nayzak’s joyful laugh on repeat in her head, taunting her like a sweet nightmare.

Her steps become more desperate as she waits for the music to decrescendo and fade – and all the while, Nayzak gives her that smile that never leaves Ava no matter how hard she tries to shake it. And once the room descends into complete silence, Ava drops Nayzak’s hands as though she were made of fire, trying not to look at the hurt look on her face as she does.

“That should be enough for tonight,” she says stiffly.

Another song queues up after the first, spilling into the room and swirling around Nayzak’s dejected form like a torrent of wind.

“One more dance… Please,” she pleads.

There are a few seconds of hesitation before Ava clicks her tongue. “ _Pas de deux…_ ” she recites, her accent slipping into fluent French. “You can’t waltz to it.”

“What? Nayzak says breathlessly, only just comprehending that Ava is talking about the song.

“It’s in the wrong time signature.”

“Oh…”

Ava takes a step backwards, trying not to make it seem like she’s trying to escape. “In future, you may want to ask Nat to teach you. She is a far better dancer and teacher.”

In a stiff motion that is completely unlike the fluid dance the duo had just shared, Ava turns around and starts towards the door. She is halted by a small hand wrapping around her wrist, and turns her head to see Nayzak, her face drawn in a pout.

“Did you need something else, Detective?” she says professionally.

The hand slides away in disappointment. “No – I’m sorry. I’m exhausted… I should go to sleep.”

The twinge of guilt, like needles piercing one-by-one through her chest, is unmistakable as Ava watches the small form of the detective brush past her and through the door.

As the sweeping agony of the strings and brass of _Pas de Deux_ begin to swell around her lonely form, she realizes that Nayzak has left her phone behind on the table. She moves to turn the music off and hears the door to the lounge open again.

She half expects (hopes) to see Nayzak walk in again, but instead, she finds the statuesque form of her dearest friend, Nat, leaning against the doorframe with a vague look of disappointment on her face.

“Don’t…” It’s all Ava manages to say before her voice gets caught in her throat.

“I can give her phone back,” is all the other vampire says, her tone drenched in sympathy that Ava has neither want nor need of.

“Thank you.”

“It’s all going to catch up with you eventually, Ava,” Nat warns, as her friend hands her the phone.

“Not if I can help it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't @ me. I only know how to write pain.


End file.
